The Cold Light of Day
by w0man-1n-r3d
Summary: (Sequel to Passion Play) Smith and Chanson meet down the barrells of their guns, but is everything as it appears to be? (very much an R rated fic!)


The Cold Light of Day  
  
by "w0man-1n-r3d"  
  
Disclaimer: The wonderful world of the Matrix belongs to the Wachowski Brothers/Warner Brothers.  
  
(a/n: Edited for content. The uncensored version is over at www.adultfanfiction.net. This version has been cut due to graphic sexual scenes.)  
  
It always reminded her of falling, dropping from the neck down into the Matrix. The buildings and streets materialized in fractals around them. Chanson felt slightly dizzy, as she normally did when being plugged in. Rush, Gomez, Nyoto and herself were being jacked in, as quickly as possible, to assist the crew of the Intrepid. The espionage mission they had been conducting had resulted in one crewmember death, and a band of Agents tracking the rest down through the streets and sewers of the city. Of course, the EMROs were called in to aid their escape.  
  
Nyoto flipped open her phone, dialling Screech. "Where are they?" she asked.  
  
"The bulk of them are in the sewers. 20 feet in front of you is a manhole cover. If you drop into it and head left you will intercept them."  
  
"Where's the rest?"  
  
"A lone Agent is pursuing Ophelia. They're on the rooftops. Looks like Smith."  
  
Nyoto's eyes went to Chanson. "Ok," she said, flipping her phone shut.  
  
"What is it?" Chanson asked. "Smith is here. He's pursuing Captain Ophelia on the rooftops."  
  
Chanson nodded and turned to go. Out of all the EMROs she had the most luck in conflicts with Smith, so normally when he was involved, they would send her. She was fast and annoying enough with her guns to distract him, giving his target time enough to escape. And she had been lucky enough to escape herself.  
  
"Chanson!" Nyoto called after her. She turned her head.  
  
"Be careful."  
  
As Chanson climbed up the nearest fire escape, her mind drifted back for a moment to her little fantasy programme. Her "Agent training programme" that Captain Nyoto had her working on. She had the combat part already written, so when the time came that he demanded a finished product, it would appear innocent enough. It was a simple behavioural switch that she added in, when loaded up with that location, that created her wild Smith fantasies. Last night, she had been 'working' on it again, and had a delightful time in her father's olive grove under the moonlight. She remembered what it felt like when his full lips touched hers, and his voice in her ear, seducing her, gently teasing her to her surrender. What she wouldn't give to be there right now.  
  
Willing herself to the present, she pulled herself up and looked around. She saw nothing unusual. She drew her two Smith and Wesson 952 9mm's to keep them ready. EMRO's were the expendable soldiers of the war, but today was not her day to die, least of all through indulging in a fantasy of the enemy when she needed her wits. She heard a bird flapping overhead and then her eye caught movement. Two rooftops away, she saw Ophelia landing. Smith couldn't be far behind. Chanson started running towards the captain, dodging roof tiles, air conditioning units and ventilation shafts. She jumped off of the edge of the building, focusing on the task at hand, willing herself to bend the Matrix enough to make it. Landing, she rolled and sprung back up as Ophelia landed on the other side of the roof. She was hiding behind an elevator gearbox as Ophelia drew near her.  
  
"Run!" Chanson shouted at the captain. "I'll distract him!" She could feel the blood pulsing, pumping through her veins as the adrenaline kicked in, preparing to fight.  
  
"Give me time!" Ophelia screamed as she breezed past Chanson.  
  
She heard a loud crunch on the roof and knew it was Smith. His footfalls drew near to her. As he passed her, she ran from her hiding spot, firing upon him from behind, causing him to break stride as he shifted to dodge the bullets.  
  
Chanson could see Ophelia make it to the fire escape she had used to climb up on the roof tops. A few more seconds' antagonising is all it would take, and Smith would change his focus to her. She backed up to the edge of the building as she continued to fire at him, making him dodge her bullets. She felt both clips empty. 20 rounds in total shot at him, hitting nothing but making him lose his target; she knew she had his attention.  
  
She paused for a second to see his reaction. Slowly he cracked his neck and turned around to see his antagonist.  
  
"Miss Variani," he said, in greeting. His features turned from a stern frown to a smirk. "Coming to distract me?"  
  
It was if a tiny explosion happened in her mind as he said her name. Smith was not supposed to know her name. EMROs were nameless, faceless soldiers whose purpose was to assist other teams on missions or die trying. They did not engage in tactical or sabotage missions, and therefore were not normally immediate targets for Agents, until they provoked them. Never before had Smith bothered to address her before giving chase, let alone use her name. Whatever it meant, it could not be good. He was reaching in his suit jacket and she didn't wait around to find out what he was reaching for. Jumping backwards, she flipped off of the roof, and allowed herself to fall. She caught herself on the edge of a fire escape that had pulled free, and hung there to break her descent, before dropping down onto the ground. She looked up just long enough to see Smith's head peer over the top of the building, before jumping.  
  
Chanson ran down the alleyway. Quickly she pulled herself over a chain- link fence that separated the alley and continued her escape. She could hear his footsteps behind her, and the chain of the fence rattling. Making a quick left and then another left down another alley, she saw another fire escape. Jumping on a trashcan, she hauled herself up on it and scaled the ladder. As she neared the top few rungs, she was shocked to feel a hand grab onto her arm and pull her up over the top, roughly. The owner of the hand was Smith.  
  
Chanson could taste her stomach's contents in her mouth. The coldest chill had descended upon her, along with the adrenaline that continued to pump through her veins, causing her to shake uncontrollably. Any lust, any sexy thought she ever had about him was gone in this minute and all she wanted was for him to kill her quickly, or for Screech to pull the plug. If she had a bullet left in her pistols, she would have killed herself in this moment, to save from any torture that lay ahead.  
  
"I have been wondering when we would meet again, Miss Variani," he said, with a tight grip on her arm. "It has not escaped my notice that you seem to appear whenever myself and my colleagues are in pursuit of your colleagues. And for some reason, I invariably end up chasing you." He led her into the centre of the rooftop. "At first, I believed it was merely coincidence. When it continued to happen, I put it down as some sort of resistant tactic, and dismissed it thus. But," he paused, reaching into his jacket, "some new evidence has come into my possession that has shown me that your actions were not what they first appeared." In his hand was her disk, the "training programme".  
  
"Where did you..." she tried to speak, but found herself unable to do more than whisper. Her embarrassment had caused her cheeks and the tips of her ears to feel as if they were sunburnt.  
  
"Where did I get this?" he said, finishing her question. "It is irrelevant where I received this, or from whom. What matters is that you have some very interesting extracurricular activities, don't you, Miss Variani? It would seem they were very stimulating, at least for you. I am not sure, however, if your commanding officers would agree with your choice of subject," he said, smirking.  
  
Smith led her to the rooftop access door to building they were in, and opened it. He guided her into the stairway. His grip on her arm was still there, although he had softened it considerably.  
  
"You will assist me, Miss Variani. I think you owe it to me, seeing as you've taken such liberties thus far with myself, to give me something in return for what I have unknowingly given you."  
  
"I have nothing to offer," she managed to croak out, "I'm an emergency response operative. I'm not privy to any tactical or sensitive information except when things go wrong."  
  
Smith had guided her through a fire door and into a hallway. It would appear they were in an apartment or a hotel. The carpeting underneath her boots was plush and soft, the walls had grey marble trim inlayed into their light beige wood panelling. Turning a corner, they came to a room. Number 504. Smith turned the door handle and held the door open so Chanson could go inside. He followed her in, shutting the door behind him. Her fear caused her to feel like her insides were made of helium. She was unsure whether she wanted to throw up, faint, or swoon, as he removed his sunglasses and earpiece, setting them on a green marble side table, in the entry foyer, and unbuttoned his jacket, removing it and laying it neatly on a chair. She noticed his Desert Eagle in a shoulder holster, and was surprised to see him remove that as well and lay it on the chair on top of his jacket.  
  
"If it was information I wanted, Miss Variani, I wouldn't have brought you here," he said, closing the distance between them. In a swift movement, he had her in his arms, and had lowered his mouth onto hers, kissing her firmly, asserting himself on her. Again, her brain felt as if it exploded. Her knees went weak, and she felt his embrace strengthen, supporting her upright as he kissed her. She was torn between resisting him and giving into what she wanted desperately. He knew about her fantasies, he knew that she wanted him. Somehow he knew all of her secrets. She felt her arms move to embrace him, and felt her lips move to kiss him back, and she knew that her body had made the decision for her. She could feel his fingers running lightly up her spine and neck, into her hair, where he intertwined them. His kiss was incredible, setting off small implosions in her mind and in her belly. Her fear was turning into a heat that was spreading through her body, fuelled by his lips and touch.  
  
Breaking off the kiss, she felt his cheek rub against hers, as he held her close to him. His hands slipped inside her cream leather jacket and she felt her skin tingle as his fingertips softly caressed down her bare arms, sliding the jacket off and on to the floor. She smelled her own perfume, Chanel no. 5, which was part of her residual self image, but she was surprised to realise that his scent reminded her of vanilla. She felt his lips on top of her head, kissing her over her forehead, down her nose and to her lips again.  
  
He removed her sunglasses and looked in her eyes. She saw oceans to fathom in his dark blue eyes; emotions unshielded by the glasses he normally wore.  
  
"You must not be afraid, Chanson. I won't hurt you. What I want from you is pleasure. I want to explore the reaction I had when I viewed your programme. Agents... do not normally react this way to humans," he said, almost reading her mind again, before she could formulate a coherent question.  
  
"But you're not just any Agent, are you? You're different than the others."  
  
"They would say I have evolved, yes," he said, turning from her and walking into the rooms. Chanson stepped off of the marble floor and onto the plush thick carpet, and felt her boots sink in. She had almost forgotten what carpeting beneath her feet had actually felt like. He was standing at the window looking out through the sheer drapes at the city.  
  
Chanson looked around the apartment he had brought her to. It was decorated very luxuriously, with oil paintings hanging on the walls under glass, and antique furniture appointed the parlour they were now in. Two marble topped tables with fresh flowers in glass vases were on either side of a doorway. The door was open and Chanson could see an enormous four- poster carved wooden bed was on the other side. She assumed there was a bathroom and kitchen somewhere in the apartment but she had not located them yet. She walked over and stood behind him, taking in the considerable view.  
  
He turned to her and asked, "Do you like my rooms? This is where I spend my downtime."  
  
"They're lovely!" she exclaimed. "But I didn't think Agents..."  
  
Smith cut her off, "You have much to learn about Agents, Chanson. Especially if you are going to take one as your lover," he growled, pulling her close to him. Chanson bit her lip, the thought was so erotic and yet so taboo she almost couldn't contain herself.  
  
"Do you want to learn?" he whispered, as he ran his fingers up through her hair, bending her neck to one side so he could kiss and lick the exposed skin. She felt herself become weak, light headed at his touch and words, and she clung to him to keep balance.  
  
"Yes," she whispered, "Yes, Smith." She felt his hands come to rest on her hips, and his long fingertips slip underneath her dark purple silk shell. He slid his hands up her sides, just brushing her skin with his fingertips as he removed her top. He smiled, possessively, as his eyes roamed over her naked torso, and her breasts encased in a lace bra.  
  
He slid his fingers under the straps of the bra and removed them from her shoulders, while he pulled her closer to him again. She felt his hot breath on her cheek, and deftly, with one hand, he had undone her bra clasp and it was away.  
  
Smith pulled back from her again to look at her. "Very nice, Miss Variani... but why am I doing all the work here?" he asked, with an obviously false- aggrieved tone to his voice. "Surely, if we are to continue this exchange, you will have to provide me with some assistance?" he said, smirking. "Or would you rather let me do all the work while you benefit?"  
  
Chanson was at a loss for words. Through the fog in her mind it dawned on her that he wanted her to remove his clothes. She reached up and fumbled to remove his tie, pulling his Windsor knot the wrong way. He did not move to help her, but watched her, growing more and more amused at her fumbling. Her hands were shaking as if she had been on the drinking binge from hell, and her mind was just as clouded. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and her brain as her heart palpitated; so nervous that she was having a hard time willing herself to calm down and focus.  
  
As she was all thumbs with the buttons on his shirt he reached up and took her hands in his. "Lesson number one: An Agent always gets what he wants, when he wants it." He kissed her fingertips and she noticed his right eyebrow raise slightly, as a wicked smile spread over his features.  
  
Chanson felt a cold draft creep up her back and realised her remaining clothes were no more. Neither was his, for that matter. He stood naked in front of her in all his glory, a well muscled, but not overly defined physique, with just the right amount of hair that led down his torso in a trail. He was gorgeous and it was obvious that he knew it, standing back slightly so she could get a good look at his body.  
  
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Chanson was going out of her mind. She felt like she had been drugged, and was completely out of her body and mind. Here she was, a resistant, an EMRO, and she was in the apartment of Agent Smith, the head Agent, and she was completely naked and vulnerable. And they were kissing. And he was aroused. And, God help her, so was she. All those fantasies she had were now a reality. This was real, or as real as it could get with Smith.  
  
"Lesson number two, even though you're a weak human, try to keep up with your Agent," Smith whispered in her ear, pulling her back into reality, as she felt herself be lifted up as if she was a pillow, and carried into the other room. He deposited her onto the massive bed, and the softness enveloped her. Standing at the foot of the bed, he ran his hand down her leg and picked up her foot in his hand, rubbing it.  
  
She looked up at him, smiling as he kissed her instep. He trailed kisses up her ankle, calf, and inner thigh. Her eyes opened wide as she looked down at the man who was kneeling before her, so intently focused upon fulfilling her fantasies..  
  
"Smith," she whispered, "Smith... what are you doing to me?"  
  
He looked up at her from his position, "I'm taking what I want. I'm simply claiming what is mine."  
  
Her eyes shot open at the full implication of those words, in combination with what he was doing to her. She moaned his name as she felt him pleasuring her, and he continued kissing his way up her body, along her concave stomach, in between her breasts, and then up her neck to her lips, where she greeted him hungrily. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, digging her nails into his skin, and rubbing her body against his.  
  
"Smith," she whispered.  
  
"Shhh," he said, "Don't speak, let me take you... just as you want." He kissed her lips again and then planted soft kisses on her chin and then over her jawbone to her earlobe.  
  
"This is what you want, isn't it?" he whispered.  
  
Without a seconds' thought of the consequences, she told him yes. She told him how she had wanted him since the very moment she first saw him. She told him that she was his to do with what he wanted.  
  
He paused for a moment and smiled; the predator smiling at his prey, before he resumed his actions. Chanson slid her hands down his body to his bottom, squeezing it and caressing his body, feeling the taunt muscles underneath his skin moving, tensing and relaxing as he gave her pleasure. She could feel his excitement against her leg and she rubbed against it as best as she could.  
  
"Smith... don't stop, oh please, don't stop," she begged, feeling herself be carried away.  
  
He looked at her eyes, which were closed, with the smugness of a man in total control, and said, quietly, "Why shouldn't I stop?"  
  
Her eyes opened and she looked at him, totally lost in her passion, as she rubbed herself against his hand, "I'm.. I'm going to explode..."  
  
"I don't think so," he said, taking his hand away, and smiling. "Not yet. Not before I've taken you."  
  
Her body and mind nearly did explode on itself, hearing his voice say those words.  
  
He brought himself to her, merging their bodies together, as time in the Matrix seemed to slow and the room seemed to circle around them. Smith lowered his lips onto hers, kissing her deeply, claiming her body and her mouth at the same time. She clung to him as he started to pleasure her, returning his kiss and not knowing anything, at all, in this single moment of time except for this all consuming pleasure that had swept her up in its' wake.  
  
"I am going to leave you in no doubt of what I want from you, of who controls you, who owns you, of whom you belong to. You are mine. You have wanted me, and now you have me. But I want you now...," he growled in her ear, "and I will have you, Chanson."  
  
He gently ran his fingers up, lifting her left arm up and then down her left side, as he kissed her right shoulder causing her to shiver. He was still inside of her, not moving, as he brought his left hand up, and into the dark curls of her thick hair, pushing it to one side as his lips claimed the back of her neck.  
  
"Smith, please..." she said, panting.  
  
"Lesson number 3:" he growled, his voice full and heavy with passion and exertion, "Never forget that I am your lover, I am the one you desire...You cannot fight the reality that you are mine. You know it in every organic part of you, and in every line of code that makes you here right now with me. Whether you're here in the Matrix with me, or in your training programme, or in the real world, you are mine, Chanson, you are mine..."  
  
"Oh my God, Smith...," Hearing those words from his lips, the very words she had written for her programme to say, pushed her right over the edge. She came with a shout, his name upon her lips, feeling wave after wave of orgasm course through her as she nearly collapsed from the pleasure of it all. It was only him supporting her as he continued to take her throughout her climax.  
  
As he felt her climax around him, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to let go. He took her a bit more roughly, moving quickly within her as his fingers moved up to her breast. He pushed her forward a bit more to allow him to penetrate her deeper and easier. He felt her climax subside as his own started, boiling over into her. He was overwhelmed by this human; made to desire her, made to feel pleasure from the conquest of taking her, and he did. He was almost proud of this fact as he came in her, his final thrusts hard and deep, taking her those last few times before stopping and letting her collapse on the mattress. He laid next to her, eyes closed, trying his best to hide the true impact of their encounter from her and retain his visage of control.  
  
He felt her turn over and look at him. He opened his eyes and willed his features to his normal smirk.  
  
"Very nice, Miss Variani. This was an acceptable first encounter."  
  
She looked at him, with wide eyes, completely undone by him. She reached to touch him and he let her run her hands over his body. He kissed the top of her head and their bodies shimmered as he replaced their clothing.  
  
Getting up off of the bed, he straightened his jacket and took his sunglasses out of his pocket.  
  
"Next time I see you in the Matrix, I will assume it is because you wish to have another encounter with me. However, do not assume I will show you any leniency or quarter if we meet over the barrels of our guns again. I would recommend you get back to your ship now before my fellow agents pinpoint my position and come to join us, unless you wish to take them on as well, in which case we could arrange that," he smirked.  
  
Chanson stood up, shaking, and said nothing. She walked to the door of the bedroom and he caught her arm, pulling her back to him. He embraced her and took her in a long, slow kiss before breaking away and smiling.  
  
"Until we meet again, my dear. Let's make it sooner rather than later. And, don't bother using your programme anymore. Save yourself for the real thing," he said, as he walked through the door of the apartment, shutting it behind him.  
  
Chanson ran to the door, calling, "Wait! Smith!"  
  
Opening the door and looking down the hallway, she found it totally empty. He was gone.  
  
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, steadying herself and her nerves for a few moments. She started walking slowly to the lift, when she heard the lift bell ding. Two Agents, a very tall, large built one and a thinner one with finer features walked out into the hallway and raised their guns at her. She turned and ran towards the window, smashing into the glass as bullets whizzed past her. She fell down in slow motion, landing on top of an articulated lorry and rolling forward. Quickly she had her mobile phone out and was dialling Screech for an exit.  
  
Brown and Jones peered out the window at Chanson as she landed on top of the lorry, watching her move. They turned to each other and exchanged confused looks, before resuming the chase.

-----

Chanson opened her eyes in the real world, as Screech pulled the plug out of her head. She looked around and saw the rest of the crew still plugged in. Somehow, she had made it back before the others.  
  
"Where are they?" she asked.  
  
"They're almost home," Screech replied. "The Artemis came in as well to assist, and, things went a bit crazy."  
  
"Ah," Chanson said, walking away. She paused for a moment as the fragments of an idea crystallized in her mind.  
  
"Screech..." she began, but stopped as he turned to her with a knowing smile.  
  
"You can thank me some other time. I hope it was better than your programme. And I won't tell. It's good to see you happy, Chanson."  
  
"But wouldn't that mean he knows who you are now?" she asked.  
  
"I sent it to him anonymously. He doesn't know who it's from."  
  
Chanson nodded, and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Screech."  
  
"Anytime," he said, "It'll be our little secret."  
  
She smiled to herself as she went to assist her crew coming out of the Matrix. Some secrets were too delicious to ever give up.

-----

Smith stood at the window at his office as Brown and Jones came through the door. He turned to them and smiled, smugly.  
  
"What were you doing with her there?" asked Brown.  
  
"You have compromised the location for our rooms," said Jones. "The rebels now know where we recharge."  
  
"She will not be a threat, nor will she divulge the information. She," he paused, taking them both in, "is mine."  
  
They exchanged looks and their eyes closed as Smith uploaded the details of the encounter to them both.  
  
"She," said Brown.  
  
"...is yours," Jones repeated. "Yes. She is yours," he nodded.  
  
"Shall we find humans ourselves to copulate with?" asked Brown.  
  
Smith started laughing. "Agent Brown, if you could find a human to copulate with then I sincerely hope you do so, if you are even able to."  
  
"Would she copulate with us?" asked Jones.  
  
"She is mine. She is not for you to experiment with," Smith replied glaring. "Resume your normal duties. I should not have even bothered trying to share my revelations, my breakthroughs with you both."  
  
Brown looked at Jones. Jones shrugged. They turned and walked out.  
  
Smith resumed his vigil at the window, watching the humans, and waiting.  
  
The end. 


End file.
